


Poison and Promise

by deinonychus_1



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poisoning, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6468817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinonychus_1/pseuds/deinonychus_1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason has been poisoned by Pasiphae in an attempt to stop him marrying Ariadne and taking the throne. There is only one man with the knowledge, the skill, and the determination to save him, and Jason’s fate lies in the hands of his closest friend. The only question is how far is Pythagoras prepared to go, and how much is he willing to sacrifice to save Jason’s life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison and Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for small fandom bang, and also for hurt/comfort bingo for the 'poisoning' prompt.
> 
> Huge thanks to Clea2011 and Celeste9 for the beta.
> 
> Please go and check out the gorgeous artwork by knowmefirst [here](http://knowmefirst.livejournal.com/99691.html), [or here on AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6476908), and give the artist some love as well! The art is all featured throughout the fic. 
> 
> This fic is set not long after ep 2.6 – The Grey Sisters, so Jason and Ariadne are to be married and everything is fine, before it all goes to hell with Melas.

“Jason!”

Pythagoras and Hercules drew their swords and raced into the temple ruins where their friend was trying to fight off five Colchean soldiers.

A Colchean turned in time to meet Pythagoras’ charge and they clashed hard and traded blows until Pythagoras got under his defences and sliced his arm. Pythagoras rammed his blade into the soldier’s side and wrenched it free in time to meet a new attack. This soldier was more cautious, and a better fighter, and Pythagoras felt himself being beaten backwards. It was all he could do to keep blocking and parrying. He saw Jason go down to his knees, and his heart lurched.

“Hercules!”

With a primal roar, Hercules bodily charged the soldier that was about to plunge his sword into Jason’s neck and they both fell backwards in a tangle of limbs and weapons. 

Pythagoras couldn’t spare the scene any more attention; he was still desperately trying to defend himself. He was pushed back and back across the ruins. His foot hit a pile of rubble and Pythagoras overbalanced and fell, flailing desperately to keep the soldier off him as he landed hard on his back. The eyes that stared at him from beneath the Colchean’s helmet were triumphant as he raised his sword for a killing blow.

A blade appeared in the middle of the soldier’s chest. He looked down at it, confused. The blade disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared, and the soldier slowly toppled sideways to reveal Hercules, his sword bloody, standing right behind him. 

“Are you alright?” Hercules asked. 

He held a hand out and Pythagoras grabbed it and hauled himself upright.

“Fine. What about Jason?”

They both turned back to see Jason still on his knees in the middle of a scatter of dead Colcheans. Jason looked at them, and then fell forwards to land face first in the dirt.

Pythagoras swore and scrambled over to him and turned him over onto his back. 

“Jason!” 

He performed a quick visual search, but apart from some superficial cuts and bruises, and a wound to the side of his head that already looked several hours old judging by the dried blood, Pythagoras could see nothing wrong. Nothing that would lead to Jason being barely conscious.

“Jason. What’s wrong?”

Jason forced his eyes open and opened his left hand, the one not holding the sword, to show Pythagoras a small pottery vessel. He shoved the vessel at Pythagoras with what seemed to be the last of his strength and then closed his eyes again.

“Pasiphae,” Jason breathed. “Poison.”

“No,” Pythagoras whispered. 

“Look,” Hercules shouted.

Pythagoras looked up where he was indicating and saw Pasiphae and Medea and some more soldiers watching them from high up on the walls of the ruins. 

“We have to get him out of here, now,” Pythagoras said. 

He had barely finished speaking before Hercules picked Jason up, threw him over his shoulder, and started heading back into the forest.

Pythagoras looked back at Pasiphae, and scanned the ruins, expecting more soldiers to come chasing after them at any moment, but there was no one. Pasiphae watched Hercules and Jason disappear into the trees, and then, with barely a glance at Pythagoras, she turned and disappeared back into the temple. 

Pythagoras didn’t wait to see what she would do next. Pausing only long enough to make sure he had the vessel secure in his bag, he ran after his friends.

“Hercules, stop,” he shouted as soon as they were completely out of sight of the ruined temple.

“Are you mad? If we stop they’ll catch up with us.”

“I don’t think they’re even following us,” Pythagoras panted, trying to catch his breath.

“Of course they are. They know he’s hurt, they know we’ll be slowed down carrying him. We’re easy targets.” Hercules was still walking as fast as he could while carrying their friend.

“No they’re not. They’re not following us because Pasiphae knows he’s already a dead man.”

At that, Hercules did stop and spun round to stare at Pythagoras.

“No. No, he can’t-”

“You heard him, she poisoned him. Pasiphae thinks he’s already dying, that’s why she let us take him with so little resistance.”

Much as he didn’t like the thought, it was the only explanation Pythagoras could come up with for why half the Colchean army wasn’t already chasing them down.

“There must be something-”

“There is. Put him down.”

After one last check to make sure they really weren’t being followed, Pythagoras dropped his bag and sword. 

Hercules put their friend down and Pythagoras shook him, hard.

“Jason! You need to wake up. I need you to be conscious right bloody now!”

Jason moaned and his eyes flickered. Pythagoras decided it was probably conscious enough for what he planned to do next.

“Help me get him upright.”

Hercules didn’t argue and they both hauled Jason into a sitting position. 

“Hold him,” Pythagoras said. 

Then he forced Jason’s mouth open and shoved two fingers as far down Jason’s throat as he could physically get them.

The reaction was immediate. Jason choked and gagged, and tried to pull away. Pythagoras grabbed the back of his head and held on, ignoring Hercules’ protests.

Jason gagged again, and then Pythagoras barely managed to get his hand out of the way when Jason threw up.

“That’s it,” Pythagoras encouraged, helping him to lean to the side and thumping his back as he coughed and retched. “Get it out.”

Jason’s fist gripped the front of Pythagoras’ tunic, and he eventually looked up at him. The look in his eyes suggested he was not at all happy.

“What the hell, Pythagoras?”

“You said you were poisoned. That was the fastest way I could think of to get as much of it out as possible, before it gets into your system properly.”

Jason’s eyes widened, but Pythagoras noted that his grip loosened a little, at least.

“I’m sorry,” Pythagoras added. “I know it wasn’t pleasant. I thought it would be preferable to being poisoned, though. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

Jason seemed rather more conscious now, at least, and Pythagoras needed all the information he could get to know how best to deal with the situation. Making Jason vomit it up might have bought them time, but, depending on what type of poison it was, it might not necessarily be enough to save him.

“Pasiphae forced me to drink whatever was in that cup thing. I knew it was poison. As soon as I’d taken it, I faked a seizure, and then when the soldiers dropped their guard I ran for it.”

“Why on earth did you drink it if you knew it was poison?” Hercules asked, his voice incredulous.

Jason glared at him.

“I didn’t have an option. They were holding a sword to my throat.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, I suppose I thought at least with the poison I might stand a chance if I could escape.” He threw Pythagoras a grateful look. “And I was right.”

“Perhaps.”

Pythagoras eyed the puddle of vomit, and then, ignoring the disgusted looks from his friends, he sniffed it. 

“Belladonna. Or some variant of, at least.” He found the vessel Jason had given him and examined what little trace was left in it of the contents. He frowned. “Belladonna, and I think something else as well. We need to get home. I can brew something that will counter the effects, but we must act fast.”

“I thought you’d got it all out already?” Hercules said, waving a hand at the vomit.

“I doubt that was all of it. Come on.”

He shoved the vessel back in his bag and stood up and pulled Jason to his feet. He looked a lot more alert and well now than he had a few minutes ago, but as soon as he was standing Jason wavered, and Pythagoras had to grab him and hold him upright.

“Hercules, help me.”

Pythagoras looped one of Jason’s arms over his shoulders and wrapped an arm around his waist, and Hercules got on Jason’s other side. This was starting to feel worryingly familiar, Pythagoras decided, as they set off back to Atlantis, supporting Jason between them.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they got back to Atlantis. Hercules had spent most of that journey worrying about Jason, although he did his best to hide that fact. A knowing look from Pythagoras when he had cast one too many glances at their friend suggested he hadn’t been entirely successful, but Pythagoras had always known him too well.

Jason was still conscious when they did get home, but he was weak and obviously in some pain. When they deposited him in his own bed he whimpered quietly and curled into a ball. 

Pythagoras immediately got to work, first with his scrolls to check what he needed, and then with his herbs and potions. Hercules knew better than to offer to help, as he would just end up getting in the way, so he stayed at Jason’s side watching over him while Pythagoras worked. Soon the table was covered in scrolls and bowls of herbs and bottles of tonics, and the house was filled with all too familiar medicinal scents as Pythagoras mixed ingredients and heated things over the hearth.

Pythagoras talked as he worked, mostly explaining what he was doing to Hercules (as if Hercules actually understood half of what he was on about!), and muttering to himself, and occasionally asking Hercules for an update on Jason’s condition. Ordinarily, Hercules might have simply ignored Pythagoras’ commentary on his work, but as the night wore on he could hear the panic in Pythagoras’ voice becoming ever more noticeable, so Hercules threw in enough answers and comments to ensure that Pythagoras knew he was listening, and to encourage him and keep him calm. 

Mostly, though, Hercules sat at Jason’s side and watched him get steadily worse. What started as a pain in his guts that was so bad it made their friend curl into a ball and whimper, gradually turned into something else. He started sweating, but when Hercules tried to offer him water to cool down Jason complained he was cold. His skin became pale and clammy, and his fevered ramblings became ever more incoherent. 

Hercules knew Jason was dying right in front of them, and there wasn’t a bloody thing he could do to stop it.

Eventually, long after the sun had set and darkness had closed in, Pythagoras lifted a cooking pot off the hearth and poured the contents into a cup. Then he stood back and closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

It was the first time he had stopped rushing around doing things ever since they had got home.

“Is that it?” Hercules asked. 

“Yes. It should be.” 

Hercules turned back to Jason and shook him. “Jason, open your eyes, look at me. You need to sit up and drink this.”

Jason whimpered and his eyes flickered but did not open.

Hercules decided to take the direct approach and put an arm round his back, pulling him upright. That got more of a reaction, and Jason grabbed at his tunic and cried out in pain.

Pythagoras sat on the edge of the bed, the cup in his hands. 

“Jason, it’s okay. Just drink this. It will help.” He slipped a hand around the back of Jason’s head and held the cup for him, encouraging him to drink. 

Jason spluttered at first, but then his free hand closed around Pythagoras’ wrist and he held him, anchoring himself as he drank. 

Hercules wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting to happen. Possibly some miracle instant cure, like the time Jason had been cursed to turn into a dog and they had ended up with a scene remarkably similar to this one, with Pythagoras feeding him a potion that was supposed to fix everything. 

Instead, nothing happened for several seconds. 

“Jason?” Pythagoras prompted, his voice exuding worry.

Jason doubled over and retched. The hand that was still holding the front of Hercules’ tunic gripped tighter, twisting the fabric so hard Hercules was dragged forwards. By the sudden look of pain on Pythagoras’ face, Jason was holding his wrist just as tightly. 

Jason cried out once, and then abruptly let go of both of them and collapsed back onto his bed and lay still.

“Jason?” Pythagoras reached out but stopped short of actually touching their friend. 

There was no response, and it began to occur to Hercules that Jason was actually unconscious.

“What just happened, Pythagoras?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Pythagoras admitted. 

At that, Hercules turned his full attention onto Pythagoras. 

“You said that was supposed to cure him!”

“I said it should counteract the poison in his system. But honestly, I have never dealt with this specific poison before. I only know what I have read. And the scrolls did not mention this.”

Hercules bit back an angry retort. He knew Pythagoras had done his best; it wasn’t his fault that Hercules had allowed himself to believe their resident genius would be able to fix this easily, like he had done so many other times when one of them was hurt or sick. Apparently there were limits to even Pythagoras’ knowledge. Hercules probably shouldn’t have been quite so surprised by that.

“Perhaps you should go to bed and get some sleep. I will stay with Jason and watch over him,” Pythagoras said. 

Between being attacked by Colcheans, rescuing Jason, and their mad dash back to Atlantis, it had been a long day, and truthfully, Hercules wanted nothing more than just to go to bed and sleep. But he hesitated.

“Are you going to be alright on your own?” he asked Pythagoras.

Pythagoras nodded, and made a passable attempt at a reassuring smile.

“I will be fine. I will wake you to take a turn watching him if I catch myself falling asleep. Or if anything happens.”

Hercules wasn’t sure he liked the sound of ‘if anything happens’, but eventually he nodded. If there was nothing more that could be done to help Jason, then there was no point both of them sitting here watching over him. 

“Make sure you do,” Hercules warned his friend. 

With one last look at Jason, Hercules went to his room and gratefully sank into bed.

Pythagoras had lost track of time. It was some time in the early hours, but the house was unnervingly quiet (save for the occasional loud snore from Hercules’ room, but after all the years they had lived together Pythagoras could tune that out most of the time).

Jason hadn’t woken, had barely even stirred, since they had fed him the hastily concocted potion, and Pythagoras was beginning to worry. Well, that wasn’t strictly true; he had been worrying ever since they had looked round after the Colchean ambush the previous day and realised Jason had disappeared. 

He was certain he had followed the notes to the letter; there was no reason why his cure shouldn’t have worked. But the longer Jason remained unconscious the more Pythagoras started to doubt himself. What if there was something else in the poison that he had not accounted for? What if his cure was not potent enough to fully counteract the poison? What if he hadn’t made it in time? 

Rationally, he knew there was nothing to be done now. Either it had worked or it hadn’t. 

Pythagoras silently prayed to every god of healing he knew of. It _had_ to have worked, because the alternative... 

He caught himself drifting to sleep, his eyes slipping shut, and forced himself to wake up. He stood up and walked around the room a couple of times, and got himself a drink of cool water until he was sure he wasn’t going to fall asleep on watch. Despite what he had promised, he dismissed the thought of waking Hercules. Nothing was going to remove him from Jason’s side tonight. 

Pythagoras sat down again. After a moment he reached out and gently brushed Jason’s hair back from his face.

“Jason. I don’t know if you can hear me, but you need to live. You cannot let Pasiphae win, not like this. Ariadne-” He broke off, the words sticking in his throat.

Pythagoras let his fingers trail down Jason’s cheek, lingering against the warm skin. 

“I need you to live, Jason. Please. I could not bear the thought of losing you.” He hesitated, and then started to speak again. “Jason. I know you love Ariadne. I know you would do anything for her. But just this once I am going to be selfish and I am going to ask you to do something for _me_. Please, Jason. Come back to us. Come back to me.”

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Pythagoras leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Jason’s forehead. 

For the first time in many hours, Jason’s mouth opened and he made a soft sound. Pythagoras jerked back and froze, his eyes fixed on Jason. Jason turned his head slightly, leaning into Pythagoras’ hand where he was still holding his friend’s cheek. Then, as suddenly as it had happened, Jason became still again.

For a long time Pythagoras did not dare to move. 

“Jason?” he whispered. 

There was no response. However, now that Jason had shifted slightly, the angle of candlelight was falling on his face differently, and Pythagoras began to realise that he no longer looked quite as pale as he had done for most of the day. The skin against his fingers had reached a far more normal temperature, and was no longer fluctuating wildly between hot and cold. 

No matter how much he tried to tell himself not to get too excited, Pythagoras couldn’t stop the hope from swelling within him at that. 

He sat down at his friend’s side once again, and held his hand, and waited.

When Hercules got up the next day, rather later than he had intended, given how high the sun seemed to be, he was slightly startled to wander into the main room and discover Jason wide awake and Pythagoras slumped over Jason’s bed asleep.

He couldn’t help the huge grin forming at the sight of Jason awake and alert, though. 

“You’re alive!”

Jason winced. “Yeah, I appear to be alive.” He indicated Pythagoras with his free hand, since the other appeared to be trapped beneath their sleeping friend. “I woke up a short while ago and found him like this. He looks pretty exhausted. I didn’t want to wake him.”

Hercules had no such reservations, and went over and grabbed Pythagoras’ shoulder and shook him.

“Oi! What happened to, ‘I’ll wake you if I need you to take over’?”

Pythagoras jerked upright and managed several completely inarticulate syllables before he seemed to finally focus. 

“Morning,” Jason said, flexing his wrist and hand now it was free.

Pythagoras looked around, finally saw Jason, and a massive grin replaced the confusion.

“Jason!” Of course, this was Pythagoras so before Jason even had chance to respond their resident genius went straight into fussing mother hen mode. “Are you alright? How do you feel? How long have you been conscious?”

“Are you actually going to let him answer any of those, or were you just planning to keep asking questions all morning?” Hercules said. 

“I feel a lot better,” Jason interrupted before anyone else could speak. “Actually, I’m pretty hungry.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Hercules said. “What have we got for breakfast?”

And that, it seemed, was that. Pythagoras quickly cleared away all the assorted herbs and bottles and bowls that he had left on the table the previous night, and the three of them sat down to a breakfast of bread and fruit (well, strictly speaking it was more like lunch by that time, but not even Pythagoras could be bothered to argue the distinction, given the circumstances). Jason seemed to become more like his usual self with every passing minute as they ate, and, when Hercules asked the question, he told them the full story of what had happened with Pasiphae.

“There isn’t a lot to tell, really,” Jason said round a mouthful of bread. “When the Colcheans ambushed us, I think they deliberately organised it to split us up, get me away from you two, and as soon as I was out of sight about ten more of them appeared from nowhere. I got bashed over the head and the next thing I knew I woke up in a cell with Pasiphae watching me.”

“Why didn’t she just kill you while you were unconscious?” Hercules felt the need to ask. 

Jason shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. Maybe she just wanted me to know it was her who did it?”

“Still, poison is pretty inefficient compared to a sword through the chest. See, the fact you’re alive now proves that.”

“Hercules!” Pythagoras protested. 

“What? I was just saying.”

“I don’t know,” Jason interrupted, possibly attempting to forestall an argument. “But honestly, I’m just glad she went with that option. Because thanks to you guys I _am_ still alive. I guess Pasiphae still hasn’t worked out how smart Pythagoras is, otherwise she might not have risked it, and just gone with a more guaranteed method of killing me.”

Pythagoras flushed an entertaining shade of pink at the look Jason gave him along with that comment. Hercules just rolled his eyes and carried on eating. 

After breakfast, Pythagoras retreated to his room, and Hercules assumed he was intending to catch up on his sleep, but when he popped his head round the door later he found Pythagoras working his way through a pile of scrolls. When Hercules asked what he was doing, the only reply he got was ‘research’, and after the third attempt to find out what he was doing or to coax him out, Hercules gave up and left him to it. 

He had to admit he was a little surprised that Pythagoras wasn’t busy fussing over Jason all day. That would have been far more normal behaviour in this type of situation (although Hercules had to admit, the fact that they had been in ‘this kind of situation’ often enough to have recognisable ‘normal behaviour’ was slightly worrying). In fact, the more Hercules watched, the more he began to wonder if Pythagoras was actively avoiding Jason, although he couldn’t for the life of him fathom why.

Still, all was well. Jason had recovered from yet another near death experience, and Pythagoras behaving oddly wasn’t exactly a new occurrence, so as far as Hercules was concerned everything was fine.

That situation lasted until they sat down for their evening meal.

Hercules had decided they should celebrate Jason not being dead with a great big meat pie for dinner. They were halfway through it, laughing at Hercules’ slightly embellished gossip that he had picked up in the market that afternoon, when Jason suddenly started coughing. Hercules barely even noticed at first. He didn’t actually pay any attention until Pythagoras’ worried voice cut across his story.

“Jason?”

Hercules looked across. Jason had grabbed the table with both hands and braced himself as the coughing became a lot worse.

Pythagoras jumped to his feet, ran round the table, and thumped Jason hard on the back. When it had no discernable effect, he did it again, harder. Jason abruptly spat out a lump of pie, dragged in a deep breath, and then fell off his chair.

“What the hell?” Hercules stood up as Pythagoras dropped to his knees at Jason’s side.

By the time Hercules had got round the other side of the table to see what had happened, Jason was having some sort of convulsion.

Pythagoras reacted first. 

“Help me get him on his side.”

He started trying to shove Jason into the required position, but Jason’s body was spasming so hard it was almost impossible to move him. 

“What the hell is going on?” Hercules demanded. “Pythagoras?”

“Don’t just stand there! Help me!”

Hercules did, his strength being more than enough to manage what Pythagoras had been failing to do, and they got Jason onto his side, although Hercules wasn’t entirely certain what that was supposed to achieve.

It seemed like an age before the violent seizure finally stopped. When it did, Jason lay still.

“Jason?” Hercules asked. 

Their friend gave a quiet moan, but made no attempt to move or open his eyes. 

“Jason, talk to me,” Pythagoras demanded. He tried to pry one of Jason’s eyes open, but Jason flinched away with a whimper and curled in on himself. 

“Pythagoras?” Hercules hated how helpless his voice sounded. 

“I don’t know,” Pythagoras said, his hands skittering over Jason’s body, searching for... something. “I don’t know what’s going on. I thought he was just choking on some food, but that shouldn’t have caused this.”

“And what is ‘this’?”

“I don’t know!” Pythagoras shouted. 

When Hercules looked into his friend’s eyes, all he could see was fear.

“What do we need to do?” Hercules asked as calmly as he could. If _Pythagoras_ was panicking they were all in trouble. 

Pythagoras paused, and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Let’s get him back to his bed. Better there than on the floor.”

For the second time in as many days Hercules picked Jason up and carried him, although at least this time it was only halfway across the room. Then he stood back and let Pythagoras get on with examining Jason. When he finally stood up and turned to Hercules, the expression on his face was not encouraging.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it the poison?”

“Possibly. Probably. I can’t think of anything else. He has a head injury, but he’s taken far worse than that before and suffered no ill effects, so logic suggests that the poison is the most likely explanation.”

“So what do we do? Can you cook up another potion that will sort him out again?”

Pythagoras shook his head. “I could, but what would be the point? If it hasn’t worked the first time, there’s no reason to believe that simply feeding him more of the same will have a different outcome.”

“So what? We’re just going to stand here and watch him die?”

“Of course not.” Pythagoras closed his eyes for a moment, and Hercules recognised this was probably the time to stay quiet and let him think. 

It didn’t take long before Pythagoras nodded to himself, and met Hercules’ gaze again. The fear was still there, but this time Hercules could also see determination.

“Stay with him,” Pythagoras said, and went into his bedroom. He rummaged around on his desk for a short while, and then came back out and headed straight for the door to the house. 

“Where are you going?”

“To the only person that I can think of who might be able to help.”

Pythagoras descended the steps into the Oracle’s chamber, his heart pounding. She was waiting for him, and turned as soon as she heard his approach.

“Jason.”

Pythagoras nodded. “You know what has happened.” Of course she knew; she was the Oracle. 

“I know that he is in great danger. Tell me.”

Pythagoras could see the worry in her eyes, and was struck with the thought that she actually genuinely seemed to care about Jason. He knew Jason visited the Oracle fairly often, but so did many people in the city, and most spoke of her as aloof and inscrutable. Pythagoras had seen another, more human, side to her when Ariadne had been mortally wounded, but Ariadne was the queen. Jason was... well, Jason was apparently the true heir to the throne of Atlantis and the man who was supposed to save the city and defeat Pasiphae, so yes, it made sense that the Oracle might have a vested interest in his wellbeing. 

And yet, the look in her eyes right at that moment was not that of pragmatic concern, it was a look that spoke of protectiveness, something almost maternal. It spoke of love.

Pythagoras could understand that. 

“He has been poisoned by Pasiphae. I made an antidote to counter the poison, and I believed it had worked; he seemed to be getting better. But now he has suddenly relapsed, and he appears to be getting worse again. I have done everything I can think of. I do not understand what is happening.”

The Oracle held her hand out.

“You have something for me?”

Pythagoras closed the distance between them and gave her the pottery vessel.

“This is what contained the poison. I don’t know if it will help, but...” He met the Oracle’s gaze and hoped she would see what he could not put into words. “Please, help me,” Pythagoras said, his voice breaking a little. “I don’t know how to save him.” 

For a moment the Oracle held his hand in her own, and Pythagoras barely dared to breathe. It felt like she was looking into his very soul. He wondered if she would see the truth that he had kept hidden for so long. Right at that moment he no longer cared. 

Then she took the vessel and knelt at the ever-present bronze bowl and began to mutter words that even Pythagoras did not recognise. He waited, growing more and more impatient as time passed. He wanted to pace, but was afraid that he might distract her from her divinations. Eventually he had to sit down on floor at the edge of the chamber to prevent himself from interrupting.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than half an hour, she looked up. Pythagoras scrambled to his feet and approached her again. When she didn’t move, he dropped to a crouch beside her.

She turned to face him. Pythagoras did not like her expression at all.

“You have seen something?”

“Pasiphae has enhanced the poison with magic. You cannot counter it with mundane medicine alone.”

It felt like all the breath left his body. No. This couldn’t be. And yet, after what had happened to Ariadne with Medea’s cursed blade, it was a thought that had been lurking at the edges of his mind ever since they found Jason. 

“There must be a way,” he said, not even trying to hide the fear in his voice. 

“There is,” the Oracle said. “It is blood magic, and can be countered by blood.”

“Pasiphae’s blood?” It was the obvious conclusion, but if it was that, then their hopes of saving Jason were even more impossible.

“No. The opposite. The poison has been enhanced by the blood of Jason’s mortal enemy, someone who wants him dead. The cure can be enhanced by the blood of someone who truly loves him.”

It took a moment to sink in, and then, for the first time since Jason had relapsed, Pythagoras felt a flare of hope. The answer was obvious.

“Ariadne.”

The Oracle gave him a curious half smile, and nodded. “Ariadne would indeed be a good choice.”

She stood up and went to an alcove in the darkness at the edge of the chamber. When she came back she gave him a small glass vial.

“Use this to collect Ariadne’s blood. Blood of such potency will not require much.”

“And then I remake the cure using the blood of his true love.” 

The Oracle grasped his hand again, her grip so tight it was almost painful.

“Pythagoras, I did not say his true love. I said someone who truly loves him.”

Her gaze seemed to bore right into him, and Pythagoras nodded. 

“I understand,” he whispered. 

She squeezed his hand one more time and let go.

“Then go and save him, Pythagoras.”

He nodded again, and then ran up the stairs and to the palace.

Jason was getting worse. Hercules was no physician, but he didn’t need to be; he could see it. Since Pythagoras had left to visit the Oracle, Jason had become ever more incoherent. He was sweating, and burning with fever, and yet complained of being cold. Occasionally he cried out in pain. And through it all, Hercules could do nothing but sit with him and talk, and try to soothe him.

It couldn’t end like this. The Oracle had told him it was their job to protect Jason, but Hercules had never felt so helpless.

He looked round at the sound of Pythagoras coming in. The young man was out of breath, and, if possible, even more panicked than when he had left.

“What did she say?” Hercules asked, meeting him halfway across the room. Pythagoras leaned heavily against the table and caught his breath. 

“How is he?” Pythagoras asked, looking across at Jason.

“Getting worse. Pythagoras, _what did the Oracle say_?”

“Pasiphae has used blood magic to enhance the poison. The only way to save him is to use the blood of someone who loves him to make a cure.”

Hercules leapt to the obvious conclusion. “Ariadne.”

“Yes. But I went to the palace and they would not let me see her. No matter what I tried to tell them, the palace guards would not let me past. They just kept saying to come back tomorrow and she might grant an audience.”

“Did you tell them it was about Jason?”

“Of course I did. I managed to get a note to one of Ariadne’s servants, but whether it will even reach her tonight I do not know.”

Pythagoras finally seemed to have calmed down, and went over to take a closer look at Jason. When he looked up, Hercules could see the same fear in his eyes that Hercules himself had been feeling.

“I do not think Jason can wait until tomorrow,” Pythagoras said in a quiet voice.

Hercules thought for a moment. “Leave it to me.”

“Where are you going?” 

“Back to the palace. And I’m not leaving until I’ve spoken to Ariadne.”

“You will need this.” He passed Hercules a small vial. “If Ariadne agrees, she must give enough blood to fill this vial.”

Hercules tucked it safely into a pouch at his belt. 

“Just keep him alive until I get back.”

He didn’t wait for Pythagoras to respond. 

It was dark by the time Hercules arrived at the palace. There were two guards on the main entrance, and Hercules simply strode straight towards them. 

“Halt,” one of the men ordered as he approached. 

Their spears crossed in front of him, blocking the doorway.

Hercules sped up and hit the men at a run. He grabbed both spears and wrenched them out of the guards’ hands. Before the guards could react and draw their swords, he slammed the flat of his hand into one’s face, knocking him back, and then turned and grabbed the other one. He caught hold of the first guard, and then bashed both their helmeted heads together. 

The guards crumpled with startling ease, and Hercules made a mental note to advise Ariadne to improve her palace security. Then he eased the door open and dragged both guards inside and into the nearest corner. 

Realistically, he knew he had five minutes, at most, before the alarm was raised and the entire palace was searching for him. He just hoped he could find Ariadne before then, and that she would overlook his less than conventional entrance, given the situation.

He headed into the palace, ducking into doorways and alcoves and round corners every time he saw someone. There were still plenty of servants around, as well as the inevitable guards, but he managed to make it as far as the atrium with the pool without being discovered. The problem was where to go to find Ariadne. He knew where her room was, they had spent far too many worried hours waiting outside it while Pythagoras and the Oracle tried to save the queen’s life, after all, but now he thought about it, Hercules wasn’t entirely sure whether that truly was the royal bedchamber, or simply the nearest bedroom when they had carried her into the palace, still bleeding.

He was still trying to decide where to go when something that felt far too much like the point of a sword pressed against his back.

“You have ten seconds to tell me who you are, and why I shouldn’t just kill you where you stand.”

_Shit._

He recognised that voice; it was Ariadne’s new general and chief of security, the man who had replaced Dion. Hercules had seen the man around, but had not actually met him yet. 

“I’m Hercules,” he said in as steady a voice as he could manage. “I am here to speak to the queen. If I don’t see her as soon as possible, then Jason, the man she intends to marry, is going to die.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re sneaking around the palace, or why two of my men are unconscious.”

Hercules winced. The general did not sound happy about that fact.

“We tried to ask nicely, and were denied access. I didn’t want to do it this way, but there wasn’t time. Please, you have to let me speak to the queen.”

“We? Who else is here?”

Hercules cursed himself.

“No one. I mean my friend tried to gain access earlier but was turned away.”

“You’re really not very good at this, are you?”

“Look, just let me speak to the queen. She will vouch for me. And then we can get all this sorted out. “

There was a brief pause. Then the man shouted.

“Aristaon, Galen, I need backup here.”

For a split second Hercules considered trying to jump the man before his soldiers arrived. The moment he tensed, the sword pressed even harder into his back.

“Don’t even think it. You’d be dead before you moved a step,” the general growled.

“Hercules!”

He had quite possibly never been so glad to hear Ariadne’s voice. Hercules looked up and saw the queen heading towards them. 

“Your majesty, I can explain. This has all been a huge misunderstanding and I really need to talk to you about Jason.”

“Delmos?” Ariadne addressed the man standing behind Hercules. “Release him.”

“Your majesty?”

“Do it.” She turned her attention to Hercules as she moved closer. “I have just been given a note from Pythagoras but it does not say much, just that Jason is in great danger and that you need to see me. What has happened?”

Hercules breathed as he felt Delmos take the sword away. He heard running footsteps in the corridor behind him, presumably the backup, but ignored them and stepped forward to meet Ariadne.

“I am sorry, your majesty, I would not have done this if there were any other way, but we needed to speak to you as soon as possible, it will not wait until the morning. Jason’s life is in danger.”

Ariadne looked around, and Hercules became aware that there were several guards and servants watching them from around the edges of the atrium.

“Come. We will talk somewhere private.” 

Ariadne led the way to a room off the atrium and Hercules followed her, aware of Delmos staying close behind him. As soon as the door was closed, Delmos moved to stand beside Ariadne. His expression was enough to warn Hercules that if he did anything the general didn’t like, he would probably be dead before he could apologise for it.

“Tell me,” Ariadne ordered.

“Pasiphae has poisoned Jason. She has used magic to enhance it, and the Oracle says the only way to cure him is with a potion that contains the blood of someone who loves him.”

“How much blood do you need?”

It was quite impressive how Ariadne didn’t even hesitate. 

“Your majesty, you cannot,” Delmos interrupted. “You are still weak from your injury.”

Ariadne ignored him. “Hercules?” 

He took the vial out and showed it to her. “Enough to fill this, your majesty.”

It felt strange, standing on ceremony and using titles with Ariadne after their recent adventures together on the journey to Aegina and in the underground necropolis, but he knew that here, in the palace, in front of the likes of Delmos, it was necessary. As far as the rest of the palace and court were concerned, he and Pythagoras were nobodies. Trusted operatives of the queen, yes, but that arrangement was a secret, known only to the inner circle. Their word carried no weight with anyone but Ariadne herself. 

No wonder Pythagoras had not been able to get to see her. 

Ariadne reached for the vial, and yet again Delmos interrupted.

“Your majesty, I must protest.”

Ariadne rounded on him.

“Delmos, I appreciate your concern, but right now, of the two men in this room, only one has saved my life on multiple occasions, and that man is _not_ you. I know that Hercules would not ask for this if there were any other way. If this is what it takes to save Jason’s life then I will happily give my blood. I have made my decision. Now give me a knife, please. Or do I have to go and find one myself?”

Delmos drew a dagger from his belt and handed it to Ariadne without another word.

Ariadne looked around the room, and then went to sit at a table. She hesitated a moment and then looked to Hercules.

“Come and help me.”

Hercules went over immediately and took the vial and unstoppered it. As soon as he was ready, Ariadne sliced her hand, and they both watched as the blood welled up and dripped into the vial. 

Delmos went to the doorway and Hercules heard him speaking with someone outside, but he kept his attention on Ariadne and just hoped that Delmos’ loyalty to his queen overrode his natural suspicion. 

Ariadne’s hand began to shake, and she made a fist, her face a picture of concentration. This close, Hercules see that she was exhausted. It was only a couple of weeks since she had been stabbed by Medea, but even so, Hercules suspected she had been performing all the duties of her position as soon as she was capable of standing. Delmos was probably right about her still being weak, but Hercules honestly hadn’t been able to tell until he was right in front of her. 

In that moment, his respect for the queen had never been greater.

“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice. 

Ariadne looked up and met his gaze.

“Just make sure Jason lives.” Unexpectedly, she shot him a smile. “And the next time you or Pythagoras need to get an urgent message to me, come to the palace and ask for my maidservant, Irina. You will probably have more success with that than with demanding to see me in the middle of the night. I will let her know that you are to be trusted.”

“I think that’s enough,” he said. The little vial felt heavier in his hand now, and when he looked he could see the dark liquid almost filling it. 

As soon as he put the stopper in, a female servant came to Ariadne’s side, carrying a bowl of water and cloths and bandages. 

“Thank you,” Hercules said again. 

Ariadne nodded, and allowed the servant to treat the cut on her hand. 

Hercules felt Delmos at his shoulder.

“I’ll escort you to the palace gates. Wouldn’t want you to be mistaken for a common trespasser,” he said, in a tone that Hercules couldn’t quite tell whether he was joking or not.

He tucked the vial back into his belt pouch and followed Delmos out of the palace. 

Away from the palace, the city was still full of activity, mostly around the taverns. A few people called out greetings, and Hercules acknowledged them but did not stop. There had been talk of an unofficial wrestling tournament when he had been in the market earlier, and Hercules guessed that was what had caused the larger, rowdier, crowds. It occurred to him it might have been quicker to go another way. While technically a longer route, a way that utilised quieter backstreets might have been quicker, but it was too late now. 

He heard shouting, and a fight abruptly spilled out of a tavern and into the street. Hercules tried to dodge out of the way, but he and several other people were right in the way and were scooped up in the tide of drunken and angry people. Hercules shoved people aside, trying to force his way through by sheer strength alone. He saw a young boy about to be trampled and picked the child up into his arms as two men staggered into him. Hercules was slammed against the wall, using his own body to shield the boy until the two men moved on, still fighting. 

Hercules shoved his way through and dodged into the nearest side street before he put the boy down. 

“You alright?” he asked.

The boy nodded once, looked up at him with wide eyes, and then took off into the night as fast as he could. Hercules watched him go, and then headed off himself, before the city guard showed up and started indiscriminately arresting people. There were probably only so many times Ariadne could bail him out in one evening.

Pythagoras prepared his herbs and ingredients for the antidote a second time. The Oracle hadn’t been specific (when was she?), but he presumed all he had to do was make the same medicine and simply add the blood. But at what point did he need to add it? At the beginning? At the end? If he added it before he heated it was there a risk that too much blood might be simmered off?

The Oracle had said that the poison was enhanced with blood, which implied that a perfectly normal poison was added to after the fact. Logic would suggest, therefore, that the same would be true of the remedy.

If he was wrong... no, he couldn’t afford to be wrong. Surely the Oracle would have told him if it specifically required something that was not obvious?

He realised he had just rearranged the bowls and herb jars on the table three times, and forced himself to stop fussing. 

There was nothing more he could do until Hercules got back. 

He went back to Jason’s side and sat on the edge of his bed. Jason had been, at best, only semi-conscious since Hercules had left, and nothing Pythagoras did had any effect on that. 

He reached out and stroked his fingers through Jason’s hair.

“Hold on, Jason. We will save you. But you need to hold on a little longer.”

Jason’s mouth opened but there were no words; only a small, desperate sound that was so un-Jason-like that Pythagoras could barely believe he had even made it.

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to gather Jason up in his arms and hold him. To be honest, that wasn’t an unusual thought for him, but Pythagoras had noticed over the last year he and Jason had shared hugs less and less. It wasn’t just him, he knew; Jason had become far less open and tactile with everybody. Somehow in the last year the happy, friendly man who laughed and cared and enjoyed life, the man who had crashed so spectacularly into Pythagoras’ life, had grown more and more serious, as if the weight of responsibility that he felt had gradually crushed the happiness out of him. 

It wasn’t a thought that Pythagoras liked. Yes, things were more difficult now, and the ever present danger from Pasiphae meant that they could never truly drop their guard. But for now things were calm (okay, present situation excepted). Jason was betrothed to Ariadne, he was finally going to be with his true love, he should have been the happiest man in the city. And yet...

Pythagoras shook that thought away as well. He was happy for Jason, he really was. But the marriage of Jason and Ariadne was not something he liked to dwell on. 

He took his friend’s hand and stroked his hair. 

“I’m not going to give up on you, Jason. Ever.”

Hercules crashed into the house, wheezing. Pythagoras squeezed Jason’s hand and then got up to meet Hercules.

“Did you see Ariadne? Did you get it?”

“Yes, and yes,” Hercules said between breaths.

Pythagoras went to the hearth and poked the flames until they grew bigger and hotter. He mentally rehearsed back through the stages of creating the potion. In theory it ought to be quicker the second time around, he wouldn’t have to refer to his notes so much-

“No!”

He looked up at Hercules. The man was staring down at his hand with an expression of disbelief. And horror.

Pythagoras felt his stomach lurch. 

“What is it?”

“The vial. It’s smashed.”

Hercules held his hand up. It was covered in blood.

“What? No! How?”

Pythagoras was on his feet in an instant, and went to Hercules. Hercules put his pouch on the table, and Pythagoras could see immediately that something had leaked, there was a spreading dark patch at the seam. When he tentatively opened the pouch he could see the blood soaked into the leather on the inside, and the broken pieces of the glass vial.

For a moment Pythagoras could only stare at it, as if it might suddenly right itself if he willed it to enough.

“How did this happen? What did you do?” He couldn’t help the hint of anger that crept into his voice. 

“It wasn’t my fault.” Hercules looked about as distressed as it was possible to be. “Pythagoras, I didn’t... it must have been when I got thrown against a wall.”

“Thrown against a wall? What the hell were you doing to get thrown against a wall?” Pythagoras was shouting now, and he couldn’t stop himself. “How could you have let this happen, Hercules?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“An accident that is going to kill Jason!”

The look in Hercules’ eyes, the guilt, was enough to make Pythagoras’ anger drain away as quickly as it had appeared. Whatever the explanation, he knew that Hercules would not have done this on purpose, or even by simply being careless. If he said it was an accident, Pythagoras believed him. But it didn’t change the fact that it had happened.

“Maybe we could salvage some of it,” Hercules said, with more hope in his voice than Pythagoras felt the situation warranted. 

Hercules picked up one of the bowls Pythagoras had got out ready, and tipped the pouch up into it. Some blood trickled out, along with shards of glass. 

“It’s not enough,” Pythagoras said as he watched the trickle become nothing more than a few drops. “Too much has already been lost.”

“I’ll go back. I’ll speak to Ariadne again.”

“No.”

“What? What do you mean, no? We have to, Pythagoras. You said yourself, Jason can’t wait until the morning.” Hercules sounded incredulous.

An idea was forming in Pythagoras’ mind. An idea so obvious he wondered if the Oracle had known this would happen all along.

“I don’t think there is time. And it is not long since Ariadne was mortally injured herself, we cannot ask for more.”

“Well what do you propose? Because I don’t intend to sit here and watch my friend die.”

“Neither do I.”

Pythagoras went and brought another bowl from the kitchen, and a knife. 

“What are you doing? You said yourself we need Ariadne’s blood to save him.”

“No, I said we need the blood of someone who truly loves him.”

Pythagoras poured some water onto a cloth and wiped his arm clean. Hercules finally appeared to catch on.

“What are you doing, Pythagoras?”

He forced himself to look up and meet Hercules’ look. 

“I am saving Jason’s life.”

“Pythagoras, we’re not talking about platonic love here. If that were the case, _I_ could have done it, and saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

Pythagoras gave him a grim smile. 

“I am not talking about platonic love, either.”

With that, Pythagoras cut his arm open and started to bleed.

It took Hercules several seconds to process what he had just heard, and what he was seeing. Pythagoras wasn’t meeting his eye any more, and all his attention was focussed on the bleeding wound in his arm. Hercules glanced across at Jason, and then back to Pythagoras.

“You’re in love with Jason?”

Pythagoras nodded. 

“Why? How? Since when?”

Hercules couldn’t take it in. Pythagoras didn’t have those sorts of feelings for anyone. Ever. Let alone their friend and housemate.

“Since almost the first day I met him. As for the other questions...” he shrugged, somewhat awkwardly as he was trying to hold his arm still over the bowl.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Hercules wasn’t entirely sure what had shocked him the most: the fact that Pythagoras had never told him, or the fact that he hadn’t worked it out for himself. Pythagoras was his closest friend. How had he not _known_?

“What would be the point of my saying anything?” Pythagoras said. There was an edge to his voice that Hercules couldn’t quite place. “He is in love with Ariadne. And even if he weren’t, he has never shown any evidence that he has that sort of interest in men. Let alone me.”

Resignation. That was what Hercules could hear. Resignation. And pain. 

“Pythagoras,” Hercules said, with no idea what he was going to say next.

“Please, don’t, Hercules. Whatever you are going to say, just don’t.” He gave a frustrated sigh. “I know it is useless. I know nothing will ever come of it. I have known that right from the start.” 

“And yet you still love him after all this time?”

“Did you stop loving Medusa, just because you could not be together?” Pythagoras snapped. 

Hercules felt like he had been slapped in the face. After a second Pythagoras seemed to realise what he had said and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Hercules.”

Hercules looked down at the bowl and frowned.

“That’s enough, Pythagoras.”

“No, it’s not.” Pythagoras continued to let himself bleed, despite the growing pool of blood in the bowl.

“That’s more than I took from Ariadne.” 

What the hell was Pythagoras trying to do to himself? There was playing it safe and taking more than was needed just in case, and then there was being stupid. In Hercules’ opinion, Pythagoras was rapidly heading towards the latter of those options.

“Yes, I know. But Ariadne’s blood is more potent than mine. We need more.”

“What are you talking about? Blood is blood.”

“Not when it comes to magic, it isn’t. Ariadne is of royal descent. She is blessed by Poseidon. And perhaps most importantly, her love for Jason is requited. For the purposes of this cure, her blood is far more potent. Me? I’m just... me. And Jason does not even know about my feelings, let alone return them. My blood should work, but it will take more of it to achieve the same effect.”

Hercules’ heart broke a little for his friend right at that moment. 

“That’s why I didn’t suggest using my blood to start with,” Pythagoras continued. “I thought about it, of course I did. It would have been quicker and easier when it became apparent that they would not let me speak with Ariadne. But...” he shrugged. “Ariadne was the best option for this. She still is. But I fear we may be running out of time.”

And it would have involved admitting the truth, Hercules thought to himself. Something that Pythagoras was apparently only prepared to do when it became absolutely necessary. 

Hercules still couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen this earlier. Was Pythagoras really that good at hiding his feelings? Or had Hercules just been so preoccupied with his love for Medusa that he had failed to notice what was going on with his friend? 

He eyed the blood pooling in the bowl again and came to a decision.

“That’s enough now.”

“Not yet.”

“Yes, Pythagoras. It’s enough.” Hercules walked round the table and wrapped his hand around the bleeding wound on his friend’s arm, stemming the flow. “Listen to me, Pythagoras. You give any more then you’re going to make yourself sick. You’ll be too weak to make that cure, and then who’s going to save Jason? You need to stop this now, because I can’t take care of both of you.”

Pythagoras looked up at him, and finally nodded. 

“It’s enough,” he said quietly. 

Hercules made sure Pythagoras had his other hand pressed tightly to the cut and then went to Pythagoras’ room and fetched some bandages from his medical supplies. Pythagoras cleaned the cut with the same wet cloth he had used earlier to cleanse his arm. When he tried to apply the dressing one-handed, though, he somehow ended up dropping it, and made a frustrated sound. 

Without a word, Hercules batted Pythagoras’ hand away, sat down beside him, and pressed the cloth onto the cut until he was satisfied that the bleeding stopped. Then he wrapped a bandage around it to keep the padding in place. 

Somewhat to his surprise, Pythagoras did not complain or protest at any of this. In fact, he remained unnervingly silent throughout.

Hercules glanced up at him as he tied off the bandage.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

Pythagoras hesitated, and then properly met Hercules’ gaze. 

“Right now? Not really. But I will be when I know Jason is safe.”

Hercules nodded. 

They were going to have a talk later, he decided. But right now, they needed to deal with the rather more pressing matter of saving Jason’s life. 

Pythagoras immediately got to work, mixing his remedy for a second time. This time Hercules helped where he could, following Pythagoras’ instructions, even if that largely boiled down to fetching and carrying and passing things when his friend asked for them. A part of him wanted to be with Jason, watching over him, but realistically Hercules knew there was nothing he could to help Jason directly. There was only one person who could save him now.

It was well into the night when Pythagoras finally brought the pot from the hearth and placed it on the table. He reached for the bowl of blood and somehow fumbled it. Hercules lunged across the table and grabbed the bowl before it tipped. 

Pythagoras stared at him, the shock evident in his expression. Hercules glanced down and realised Pythagoras’ hands were shaking.

“Why don’t you let me do this bit, eh?” Hercules said.

Pythagoras nodded. “Pour it slowly, not all at once,” he cautioned.

Pythagoras stirred the potion as Hercules did as he was instructed. The greenish liquid darkened and became thicker. Hercules felt an involuntary shiver when he thought about what this actually was. When the last drops of blood had been teased from the bowl, he watched Pythagoras stir it for a few more minutes.

“Is that it?” Hercules asked when he finally put the spoon down. 

“I believe so.”

Hercules helped him to tip the potion into a cup, and then Pythagoras went to Jason and lifted his head.

“Come on Jason, wake up.”

Jason murmured something unintelligible, and Pythagoras apparently decided that was enough, because he put the cup to Jason’s lips and encouraged him to drink. Hercules winced when he saw some of it spill down Jason’s front, but it seemed Jason was semi-conscious enough to swallow most of the potion. When the cup was empty, Pythagoras put it aside and wiped up the spilled liquid. Then he stood up and took a step back to stand beside Hercules.

“Now what?” Hercules asked when nothing obvious happened. 

“Now, we wait.”

“Hercules? I need to ask you something.”

It was the first time either of them had spoken in a long time. Once they had given him the potion, they had both pulled chairs up to Jason’s bedside and were sat together watching over their friend. There had been no sign of a change in Jason’s condition yet. He continued to sweat and occasionally moan incoherently, but Pythagoras was relieved to notice that he had not worsened either. 

It had taken Pythagoras a while to work himself up to this conversation, but now there was something he needed to speak to Hercules about, before Jason woke up.

“What is it?”

“You can’t tell Jason about this. Not about my feelings, and not about using my blood. For that matter, we cannot tell Ariadne either. After everything she did, we cannot then say that it was all for nothing.” He hesitated, and then turned to his old friend. “Please, Hercules. Do not tell him.”

The look on Hercules’ face seemed to be wavering between disbelief and pity. After a few moments Pythagoras was unable to hold his gaze and turned his attention back to Jason. 

Eventually he heard Hercules sigh.

“We have to tell him _something_.”

“We can tell him the truth. That the Oracle told us it needed the blood of someone who loved him, and that Ariadne willingly gave her blood to save him. We just don’t need to mention the other part in between.”

“How do you plan to explain what happened to your arm? Despite all evidence to the contrary, he’s not entirely stupid.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Pythagoras’ throat at that. “I will think of something. Later. Right now, I’m so tired I can barely string a sentence together, let alone think of excuses for why my arm is bandaged.”

There was no response for some time and eventually Pythagoras turned to look at Hercules again. His friend was watching him carefully, his eyes full of concern.

“I’m fine, Hercules,” he felt the need to say, even though he felt nothing of the sort. 

“No, you’re not.” 

“Hercules-” 

“Stay there. And try not to faint and fall off the chair before I get back.”

“What?”

But Hercules was already getting up and going to the hearth behind them. Pythagoras twisted around and watched him for a while, but within a minute he turned his attention back to Jason, afraid to look away for too long in case he missed something important. It didn’t matter that he could barely keep his eyes open, or that he was shivering in the cool night air, or that he suspected he would feel light-headed if he attempted to stand up right now; his priority had to be Jason. 

A short while later Hercules appeared beside him again and thrust a cup into his hands. Pythagoras inhaled and caught a strong scent of honey from the steaming liquid in the cup.

“Get that inside you. You’ll need it after losing all that blood.”

A protest barely had chance to form on his lips before he changed his mind and offered his friend a smile.

“Thank you.”

It seemed Hercules hadn’t finished because he disappeared from view again. Pythagoras sipped at the drink, which mostly seemed to be just hot water with an extremely large helping of honey. He briefly closed his eyes and let the warmth seep through him and savoured the sweetness. Honey was always the first thing Pythagoras turned to when he was feeling run down or upset. Hercules knew him far too well.

He heard Hercules behind him a moment before a blanket was draped around his shoulders. Then Hercules sat down next to him again and resumed his vigil over Jason, as if nothing had happened.

“You never answered me,” Pythagoras said, before taking another sip.

“I won’t tell him, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Why are you so desperate for him not to know?”

“Why do you think? He loves Ariadne. I have no desire to make things awkward between us, or spoil a perfectly good friendship for something that I know can never be.”

“You say that, but I don’t think you really believe it can never be. I think you must believe there is some chance, however remote. Otherwise you would have accepted it could never happen and got over it and moved on long ago.”

Damn. Sometimes Hercules really did know him far too well.

“Right now it is a good thing for Jason that I have not simply, ‘got over it’,” he said with rather more edge to his voice than he had intended.

“A good thing for Jason, maybe, but not for you. Not having to watch him love someone else every day and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”

Pythagoras took his time taking another mouthful of warm honey drink so that he didn’t have to answer. Right then he wasn’t sure he trusted his voice not to give away just how right Hercules was, or how much it hurt.

“Oh, Pythagoras,” Hercules said, his voice quiet.

He reached across and wrapped an arm around Pythagoras, and Pythagoras let himself be tugged closer until he simply gave in and rested his head against Hercules’ shoulder. 

“I will be fine, Hercules.”

Hercules didn’t reply, but he squeezed Pythagoras’ shoulder. 

Pythagoras knew Hercules didn’t believe him, but he also trusted Hercules to keep his word and not say anything. He knew Hercules was at least half right; that holding onto his love for Jason was not doing him any good, but neither was it so easy to simply forget about it and move on. All he could hope was that when Jason and Ariadne were married and Jason was no longer living with them, when Pythagoras was no longer in such close proximity to him every day, that his feelings would eventually fade. The alternative, that he might feel like this forever, was too much to contemplate.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of Jason stirring, mumbling something.

Pythagoras and Hercules both leaned forward, and Pythagoras reached out and placed a hand against Jason’s cheek. He felt considerably less clammy than he had been for the last several hours. Pythagoras felt the first real stirrings of hope.

“Jason?”

“Mmmmnwha?”

Jason’s eyes scrunched, and then blinked open.

“There you are,” Hercules said. Pythagoras didn’t even need to look to know that his friend was grinning broadly.

Jason’s eyes flickered towards them. He looked confused, but he also looked more alert than he had ever since the relapse.

Jason tried to speak, and then licked his lips. Pythagoras didn’t even hesitate, and he lifted Jason’s head with one hand and gave him the rest of his honey drink with the other.

“Thanks,” Jason said, his voice little more than a whisper.

“How do you feel?” Pythagoras asked.

“Not dead?”

“Not dead is always a good state to be in. If you could perhaps try to remain not dead, it would make all our lives easier,” Pythagoras said, trying to keep his tone light. 

Jason managed a small smile, and then his eyes slipped closed again.

“Jason?”

“Sorry. Tired,” he mumbled.

Pythagoras couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gently brushing Jason’s hair from his face.

“Then get some sleep.”

Pythagoras was almost certain Jason was asleep before he had even finished speaking. He sat back, refusing to look at Hercules after that unintended display of affection.

“Speaking of sleep, you should get to bed as well,” Hercules said. 

“I want to keep an eye on him for a while longer. He seemed better before and then got worse again.”

“We’ve done exactly what the Oracle told you to. He’s going to be fine, and you know it. Go to sleep, Pythagoras.”

“I don-”

“Yes, you do. You’ve been practically falling asleep on my shoulder for the last hour. You’re exhausted. You keep this up you’re going to make yourself ill, and who will look after him then, eh?”

Ooh, that was a low shot. The trouble was, much as he didn’t want to admit it, Hercules was probably right. 

“Someone needs to watch over him, just in case.”

“I can do that.”

“Really? You won’t just fall asleep the moment I’m gone?”

“Says the man who did exactly that when I left him on watch last night,” Hercules pointed out. 

Pythagoras tried to give him a withering glare, but he had a suspicion it just came out looking like a slightly annoyed frown. He really was too tired if he couldn’t even work up the energy to be sarcastic at Hercules.

“Go to bed, Pythagoras.” Hercules pointed in the direction of his bedroom for emphasis. 

Pythagoras stood up and for a moment the world tilted alarmingly. He wavered until everything settled, and when he looked down Hercules was standing beside him with a hand at his shoulder. 

“Yes, you’re obviously fine,” Hercules said, injecting a healthy dose of sarcasm into his voice.

Pythagoras was about to turn and go to his room, but then, without any conscious thought entering his head, he wrapped his arms around Hercules and hugged him. There was barely a moment’s hesitation before Hercules’ arms gathered him up into a tight embrace, and Pythagoras closed his eyes and just stayed there with his head resting on his friend’s shoulder for a few moments.

“Thank you, Hercules,” he said. 

Hercules patted his back, and let go. 

“Sleep, Pythagoras.”

Pythagoras smiled and let go, and with one final glance back at Jason, he went to his room, the blanket still draped around his shoulders and trailing after him. Almost the moment he lay down and closed his eyes, he was asleep.

Pythagoras woke to the sound of banging. It took him several seconds to realise that it was someone at the door, and he dragged himself out of bed, blinking in the bright morning sunlight that streamed into his bedroom.

Hercules was still sitting beside Jason’s bed where he had left him, but he couldn’t help noticing that Hercules looked rather like he had just been roused from sleep by the banging as well. No real surprise there, although Pythagoras decided he should probably let it go this time. 

Pythagoras opened the door and stopped dead.

“Ari- I mean, your majesty.”

The glare from the bearded bodyguard standing right behind the queen suggested he hadn’t quite corrected himself in time, but Ariadne didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered. 

“May I come in?” she asked, when Pythagoras simply stood there staring for slightly too long.

“Sorry! Sorry, of course.”

He stood aside and let Ariadne and the man, Delmos, if he wasn’t mistaken, in, and closed the door behind them. 

“I wanted to see for myself how Jason was,” Ariadne said, her gaze flickering across to Jason before coming back to Pythagoras. 

Pythagoras opened his mouth to say that they thought it had worked, but then stopped himself. He looked back at Jason, and was pleased to note there seemed to be a bit more colour in his cheeks now, but he needed to _know_ before he said anything.

Hercules must have guessed the reason for his hesitation, and nodded. 

“We gave him the potion again and it seems to have done the trick,” Hercules said. “He woke up briefly last night, but he’s been asleep since then.”

The relief on Ariadne’s face highlighted just how worried she had been only moments earlier. Pythagoras rubbed his eyes and tried to get rid of the sleep fog that was still dulling his thoughts

“I’m sorry. Can I offer you a drink or something?”

This was not the first time Ariadne had been in their house, but it was the first time since she had become queen, and Pythagoras was at a complete loss to know what the correct etiquette might be. A moment later he wondered why he was even worrying about such things. Right now Ariadne was not here as their queen, she was here as Jason’s betrothed. But still, that was no reason to not be a good host.

“Thank you,” Ariadne said. 

Pythagoras hurried to fetch a drink, rummaging through their meagre collection to find the best quality cup they owned. He somewhat apologetically handed over a cup of water. 

“Sorry. Everything’s a bit, well, all over the place at the moment.” He gestured at the table, where all the pots and bowls and herbs and ingredients and everything from the previous night still covered the surface. Pythagoras shoved several things out of the way and pulled a chair over. “Sorry.”

Ariadne actually chuckled. “It is fine, Pythagoras, stop apologising.”

She didn’t sit down, and instead looked over at Jason again. 

“May I?”

“Of course.”

Pythagoras went with her, if only to reassure himself that Jason truly was getting better. This close, Jason looked like he was simply sleeping off a particularly exhausting day. There was no outward sign that he had spent much of the last day and night on the brink of death.

Behind him, Hercules cleared his throat, and Pythagoras realised he was in the way.

“I’ll leave you with him,” he said, trying to hide the sudden awkwardness, and before Ariadne could reply Pythagoras all but fled to his room. 

He went to the window and leaned out, breathing in the fresh air in the hope it might wake him up a bit. In the street below life carried on as it always did, the sounds of the market traders floating up to him as normal; so many people completely unaware that their queen was right here amongst them, or how close their champion had come to dying, yet again.

Pythagoras closed his eyes and let it all wash over him. Behind him in the main room he could hear low voices, and his first thought was that Jason had woken. It took him a moment to realise it was not Jason’s voice, though, it was Hercules, and the other voice was Ariadne. So much for leaving her alone with Jason.

His arm was hurting, he realised. With everything else last night it had almost become unimportant, but now there was a dull ache in his arm, and the cut was beginning to itch under the bandage. Pythagoras suspected he should probably change the dressing as soon as possible. And perhaps clean and treat it properly, as well. The last thing any of them needed right now was for it to get infected or something ridiculous like that. 

The voices in the main room became louder, and Pythagoras registered some sort of argument between Ariadne and Delmos. He frowned, but didn’t turn around. From what he could make out, Ariadne had asked Delmos to leave, and Delmos had refused. Pythagoras caught Ariadne saying something about how she trusted the three men in this house more than anyone else in the whole city, but more than that it was the ‘taking absolutely no shit’ tone of Ariadne’s voice that made Pythagoras smile to himself. Anyone who thought for a moment that their young queen was weak obviously did not know her. 

He heard the sound of the door again, and guessed that Delmos had admitted defeat. Pythagoras absently wondered how long would be an appropriately tactful amount of time to give them before he could return to the kitchen and get himself something to drink, and perhaps some breakfast. Would Ariadne want breakfast? Did they even have anything fit to offer a queen? He suspected the answer was almost certainly no. 

“Pythagoras?”

He looked round in surprise at the queen’s voice. Ariadne was standing in the doorway to his bedroom. 

“May I speak with you? In private?” Ariadne asked. It took Pythagoras a moment to realise that she was actually waiting for permission to enter.

“Of course.”

For the second time that morning, he quickly cleared a seat for her and dumped the scrolls onto his desk out of the way. 

Again Ariadne did not sit down, though. She came closer to him, and for a moment he felt cornered. Trapped.

“I wanted to thank you, Pythagoras. For what you did for Jason.”

He shook his head. “You know you do not have to thank me for that.”

“I know, but I still wanted to. It seems we are in your debt again. First you saved my life, now Jason.”

He shook his head again. 

“What happened to your arm?”

The question was not quite casual enough, and for a second, even through the exhaustion, there was a flare of panic in his chest. Then his mind went utterly blank.

“Uh... nothing. I mean, it’s just a cut. It’s nothing.”

Ariadne seemed to be studying him, and Pythagoras knew he had to say something more sensible and convincing but he just couldn’t think of a single thing.

“You didn’t do a very good job of cleaning up. I saw the broken vial on the table, and what looks very much like Hercules’ belt pouch.” Ariadne moved closer until she was standing right there in front of him, and Pythagoras didn’t want to meet her gaze because he knew, he _knew_ he wouldn’t be able to hide the truth, but he could not look away from her. 

“You used your blood to save Jason, didn’t you?” Ariadne asked in a very quiet voice.

Pythagoras swallowed, opened his mouth, and closed it again when he realised he had no words. 

In the end, he simply nodded. 

Ariadne seemed to consider this for a few seconds. 

“Does Jason know?”

Know what? That he had saved him? That he loved him? Right now, the two things were one and the same anyway.

“No,” Pythagoras forced himself to say. He barely recognised his own voice. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Ariadne’s eyes widened and she took his hand in hers. 

“No. No, Pythagoras. You do not have to apologise. You, of all people, do not have to apologise.”

“I don’t... I would never...” He forced himself to stop before he made an even bigger fool of himself in front of the queen. Forced himself to look into her eyes when he finally began to speak again. “Jason loves you. You love Jason. You are going to be married and I am happy for both of you. I mean that, truly.”

“Even at the expense of your own chance for happiness?”

“That chance never existed. Jason has loved you from the very beginning, and I have known it all along.” He glanced down at where Ariadne was still holding his hand. This entire situation was exactly what he had feared for so long, and yet there was just something utterly surreal about having this conversation with the queen. 

But right here, now, she wasn’t the queen. She was Ariadne. Their friend. The woman who was going to marry Jason. 

Pythagoras looked back up at her and held her gaze. “Are you going to tell Jason?”

“No. Whatever your reasons were for keeping your feelings hidden, if you do not want him to know then I will not tell him. Even if I did not already owe you so much, I could not do that to you, Pythagoras.” This time Ariadne was the one who glanced down, before meeting his eyes again. “I understand what it feels like to want someone but be unable to be with them. To be forced to hide your true feelings and pretend indifference. While the circumstances may be different, I suspect the pain is very much the same. And after everything you have done for us I have no desire to cause you any more pain, Pythagoras.”

She squeezed his hand and then let go. Pythagoras had to swallow down an unexpected lump in his throat before he could speak.

“Thank you.”

“Guys?” an unmistakeable voice from the other room called out. 

Pythagoras was barely a step behind Ariadne as they headed back to where Jason was trying to sit up, his face a picture of confusion. The moment he saw Ariadne that changed to a surprised smile, and Pythagoras forced himself to look away when Ariadne sat on the edge of Jason’s bed and pulled him into a hug that rapidly turned into a long kiss.

“Wow,” Jason eventually said. “I could get used to waking up like that every morning.”

Behind Pythagoras, Hercules coughed loudly, and suddenly both Jason and Ariadne were blushing. 

“Sorry, that didn’t really come out how I meant it,” Jason said. He looked round at them all as Ariadne sat back, still holding his hand. “What happened? Was it the poison again? I thought you’d already dealt with that? Did you find another way to cure it?”

“After a bit of guidance from the Oracle, yes,” Hercules said. “You’ve got Ariadne to thank. It was her blood that was the secret ingredient that countered Pasiphae’s magic.”

Jason immediately turned his attention to Ariadne.

“You did that for me?”

“It was Pythagoras who saved you,” Ariadne said firmly. 

Pythagoras’ stomach twisted at her words. For a moment all he could think was that she was about to tell Jason everything.

Ariadne looked at him for a second, and then turned her attention back to Jason. “Pythagoras did all the work. He made the potion, and took care of you all night. All I did was give a little bit of blood.”

Pythagoras breathed again, and a moment later felt Hercules’ hand at his back. All he could focus on, though, was the way Jason was now looking at him, his eyes full of gratitude.

Jason reached out to him and Pythagoras felt himself being tugged down. As soon as he was close enough, Jason put both arms around him and hugged in a way that he had not done for a very long time.

“Thank you,” Jason murmured into Pythagoras’ ear. “I knew you would save me, Pythagoras.”

Pythagoras closed his eyes and breathed deeply of that scent that was so utterly Jason. He squeezed him gently, and then disentangled himself before it had chance to become awkward.

“I think you’ll find I helped quite a bit,” Hercules pointed out, and Pythagoras wanted to hug him for deflecting Jason’s attention away so tactfully.

Jason laughed, and Pythagoras couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sight of Jason, alive and well and happy. 

Hercules brought over a big plateful of fruit, and they all sat together, either on or beside Jason’s bed, eating and talking, even Ariadne. It felt strange, and yet at the same time it felt right. Ariadne may be queen, but after their recent adventures together she had also become one of them in a way that none of them would have expected. 

Pythagoras tried to join in, but he was so tired it was easier to just listen while the others talked. After a while, Hercules started giving him worried glances, and even Ariadne seemed to look his way rather more than was strictly necessary. 

He couldn’t honestly blame them, not now they knew the truth. He would have to talk to Hercules later, in private, and reassure him that he was fine. The fact that Hercules and Ariadne now knew the truth changed nothing. He had managed to successfully keep his feelings under control for almost two years, he was certainly capable of doing so for a little while longer, until Jason and Ariadne were married. And then, when Jason had moved out and was not there, right in front of him every day, maybe then Pythagoras could, as Hercules put it, get over him and move on.

Until then, he just had to convince his friends that he was fine. He _was_ fine. 

Pythagoras hoped that maybe one day that wouldn’t even be a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> This was all started by girlwhowasntthere, who made [this gifset](http://girlwhowasntthere.tumblr.com/post/126514689417/girlwhowasntthere-just-saying-if-this-plan), which inspired me to make [this wallpaper](http://deinonychus-1.livejournal.com/179382.html), which then went on to inspire this fic, which in turn has inspired more beautiful artwork by knowmefirst [here](http://knowmefirst.livejournal.com/99691.html). 
> 
> So I think it’s safe to say that we’ve had our money’s worth out of this concept!


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